


Buy Me L̶o̶v̶e̶ Lust

by Riachinko



Category: Family Guy (Cartoon)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Handcuffs, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sounding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2019-05-09 07:04:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14711381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riachinko/pseuds/Riachinko
Summary: Stewie orders some sexytime things to spice up Brian's life. Idk, what d'you want from me. Pwp





	Buy Me L̶o̶v̶e̶ Lust

**Author's Note:**

> This is dumb.

It starts with the sudden chill of an absence of blankets, waking Stewie in the middle of the night. The room is still and silent; eyes closed, he grabs blindly for Rupert, but instead finds--

“Brian?” he mumbles, sleep-drenched voice small as he rubs his eyes against the blue assault of Brian's phone screen.

Finding the family dog in his crib isn’t abnormal - is actually welcome most nights, if Brian hasn't been a complete douchebag that day and doesn't come home smelling of sex or liquor. He takes up residency on Stewie's right, half conscious - the call of his name gone unnoticed. He only startles once Stewie sits upright and taps him on the shoulder.

“Brian? What the d-- are you watching _pornography_?”

The phone slips from Brian's paws when he turns, dropping to the blankets in a muted shameful display that he can't deny.

“Stewie--!”

“You sound surprised to find me in my own bed, Dog.”

Small hands grapple at the phone, wresting it out of Brian’s lap to power it off. It's no secret that Brian watches porn, and there are no pangs of jealousy there. Only exhaustion.

“If you're going to watch that crap don't do it here in the middle of the night,” he grumbles. “And give me back my blankets.”

“Sorry.”

The phone is tossed to the foot of the crib, and Brian lets it stay there, readjusting in the crib and pulling the covers up over the boy before turning away to settle in for rest.

"...Hey," Brian yawns, "I noticed that ‘Hairy Hunk Suck and Fuck’ was bookmarked on my phone…You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?”

“Of course not,” Stewie huffs in mock offence. “Maybe you shouldn't leave your phone lying around without a password if you don't want others using it.”

“It’s fingerprint locked,” Brian deadpans, adding a second, more obnoxiously long yawn. In very little time after his head hits the mattress, he's snoring softly beside Stewie - leg twitching slightly in his sleep - but after all that, Stewie is awake, and his brilliant mind is racing with niggling curiosity.

He sits up slowly, breath held; waits a minute to make sure the dog is truly asleep. Then reaching down, down, down, he fishes Brian's cellphone from the foot of his crib.

“Time to get to know you better, Brian,” he snides under his breath, leaning forward to place the phone’s bezel beneath Brian's paw with tact, unlocking the phone with practiced ease.

The Pornhub tab is still open, the video paused on screen. He doesn't need to press play to see that there's a busty blonde woman in a cute black leather lingerie set, reigning over some poor sap in a dog collar.

Stewie cringes, turning to his stuffed confidant. “You think you know a guy, eh Rupert?”

Closing the tab and immediately opening a new one, Stewie pulls up Amazon. "Whoops, my finger slipped,” he nudges Rupert giddily. “And look, he's signed in.”

  
  
  


Two days later and Brian is storming into the kid's bedroom.

“What did you do?” he commands, marching up to where Stewie sits at the plastic roundtable in the center of the room with his bear. He chucks the box and it skids across the table towards them. “I _know_ I didn't order this.”

He stands over his small friend with his arms crossed, brow knit in frustration.

“I hope they sent everything in one package,” Stewie replies dryly, pulling the box to him and rummaging through its contents, “I hate when they split it up. And don’t be mad, I bought this for _us_ ...courtesy of _you_.”

“I'm not gonna use any of that with you,” Brian spits.

“Did you even look through everything? There's some good shit in here, man!” He rattles the box for emphasis.

“Well my Amazon recommendations are fucked now, thanks a lot.”

The vibration of Brian’s phone goes off; there’s a moment of reluctance and then Brian is sighing deeply, checking his phone and frowning as he opens his notifications to see another date rejection from his latest Tinder pursuit.

And Stewie knows an opportunity when he sees one; he lets his eyelids fall halfway, soft grin tugging at his lips. “Brian,” he coos, setting his chin in one hand, “hasn't it been awhile since you went home with a woman? Is that why you were watching porn in my room in the middle of the night?”

Brian looks downright sour, exterior steeled to deflect the kid's jibe. Still, his paws are itching, sweating at the unfortunate truth of it.

“Why don't you let your ol’ pal Stewie help you out?”

Wearing down Brian's resolve is one of Stewie's true talents - the dog himself knows it. He drums his fingers against his sides in an uneven, nervous rhythm as he eyes his small friend up and down.

It wouldn't be the first time he'd accepted Stewie's help.

“I guess I should at least look at what you used my credit card for before I send it back.”

“That's the spirit,” Stewie cheers, holding the Amazon box to his chest as he slips out of his chair.

Brian is unmoving, so Stewie places the box at his feet and sits in front of him. Flap by flap, the box opens, revealing black pleather and polished silver knickknacks; things in obscenely garish packaging with kiss marks and chains and nearly illegible cursive font.

Metal handcuffs clink sharply together as Stewie pulls them gingerly from the box. They're highly reflective and cheap-looking, with cheetah print fur trim at the cuffs. “Standard fare,” he says plainly,  “but it's how you use them that counts. ”

Brian hums, sitting opposite the kid on the carpet. “What else?”

A set of lingerie makes its way out of the box. A bottle of lube and a small box that Stewie clings to his chest before Brian can take notice of it; “This one’s a surprise.”

Surprises aren’t something that Brian is looking for when it comes to what his money’s been used for, so he sits and sifts through the remnants: sequin heart-shaped nipple pasties, silicone anal beads…

“...Vadim Farrell’s Signature Cock?”

“It’s ah, for a friend,” Stewie grins. “But nevermind that, I’ve got what I want right here. You just sit and make yourself comfy while I get changed.” He holds up the lingerie set, eyebrows wiggling, and then he’s gone.

Brian doesn’t make any effort to move - opting to scroll mindlessly through apps on his phone - but Stewie isn’t gone for long. The bedroom door clicks shut and there he is in the promised lingerie: a black bra with straps that cross over the bust, black thong and dark thigh-high nylons. The getup is accented with a luscious blonde wig with shoulder-length curls and patent leather heels.

He looks good.

“You can tell me how good I look now,” Stewie says, eyes closed - smug and ready to absorb the praise. Long, faux lashes flutter softly as he waits; his painted smile falling with every second that Brian doesn't speak.

When Stewie looks next, his glare is like ice in contrast to Brian's heated stare.

“It's okay, I know I look good...just nice to hear it,” he mumbles, the would-be tap of his heels reduced to a patter against the carpet.

“Now let's get down to brass tacks: paws behind your back,” Stewie says nonchalant, unclasping the handcuffs and readying them in front of him.

Brian scoffs in reply, grimacing at the very suggestion of obeying. “What? I thought we'd be doing this the other way around.”

Stewie furrows his brow, pursing his lips and rolling his tongue along the backside of his upper teeth to really mull over his answer.

“...No.”

There's an awkward tension fill the room as neither of them say a word. Stewie taps the pointed toe of his heels against the floor with impatience, looking on dumbfounded at Brian, who partakes in his nervous habit of scratching at the back of his neck.

And then like a switch has been flipped, Stewie grins, adopting his most buttery, seductive tone.

“You need to understand, Brian,” he says, “that you are my pet...”

Needy hands draw the dog to him by the tag of his collar, grasping it hard and crashing their mouths together in a painful, sloppy kiss that Brian falls into without thought. The kid's got him good, having him closing his eyes and lapping into Stewie’s mouth; as weak for the kid en femme as he is any natural woman.

The daze he ends up in as they part mouths leaves him swimming - very nearly stops his blood from running cold - but there's a look in Stewie's eyes as he places a small whistle between his lips that brings Brian to; sends a bolt of electricity down his spine as Stewie blows the whistle and Brian's world is turned upside down. He's subjected to an ear-piercing pain; an insistent tone that the boy seems immune to.

“...And I am your master,” Stewie coos through the shrill ringing, snapping one handcuff down onto an unassuming Brian's wrist.

“You bastard!” Brian barks, flinching against the restraint. “You bought a dog whistle!?”

“Yes, well,” Stewie runs a hand through blonde waves of hair, flipping it behind his shoulder pointedly, “be a good boy and I won't need to use it.”

He makes his way behind the dog and around to his other wrist, grabbing it without issue and securing the handcuffs with a click. Brian flexes his paws a few times once he's bound, grunting his reluctant acceptance.

“Do you--” Brian grumbles, twisting as best he can to peer over his shoulder at Stewie. “Do you even have any idea what you're doing?”

“Of course I do,” Stewie says, circling back around to stand menacingly in front of his canine companion. “You always take the lead because you're a horny mongrel who can't control himself,” he spits, “but I think I'm going to enjoy taking charge for once.”

Stewie’s eyes drift half closed as he regains himself, leaning into Brian once more and ghosting their lips together; breath shallow, taking in each other's scent. He can feel Brian shudder beneath him as his tiny fingers rake over the fur of the dog’s stomach, down and back up again to the red leather of his collar, where his fingers hook over and rest.

“Will you move for me, or are you going to _make_ me move you?” Stewie whispers into cashmere-smooth fur.

Brian gapes open-mouthed, caught halfway between furious and aroused - the darkness in Stewie having always been oddly appealing for its curiosity. Stewie helps get him to his feet, tugging again on his collar until he's upright, and then he's leading him over to the far wall of the bedroom. It’s warmer over here by the window; he sits in the shade, the crib thankfully obscuring his view of the bedroom door, although he isn't overly worried about Lois interrupting them.

“I'm glad you decided to cooperate,” says Stewie with a smile. He climbs atop Brian's gut, straddling his hips as best he can given his short stature. “But it's more fun when you don't.”

Brian startles when Stewie blows the whistle again, barking furiously and knocking the kid off of him as he struggles to free his wrists. It's useless, he knows, to struggle the way he is, and it hurts despite the garish fur padding.

But if he can't win even by playing Stewie's game, he doesn't foresee himself having much fun.

“Stewie!!” he pleads. “Be reasonable!”

The kid is back on him in an instant, dragging his tongue over the fur of Brian's cheek; hot breath helping to ease the dog's rattled nerves, and no one’s never groomed him before - if you can call it that. It's strange and wonderful and deeply satisfying.

“Shh,” Stewie mewls, petting, massaging into tense muscle; rubbing the silken white fur of Brian's left ear between his thumb and forefinger.

In the moments that follow, Brian finds peace in his ministrations, tongue lolling out past his lips as Stewie continues to rub his ear - stopping to scratch behind it every once in a while; his free hand scratching down the dog's side, down to his twitching hind leg and finally between his legs completely.

“Stewie--”

It's the briefest of touches but Brian is already growing - aching for it - and then Stewie's hand is replaced by the curve of his ass, sliding his body down and rocking teasingly against him.

“Don't make me do all the work,” the boy purrs, his own arousal more than evident against the soft synthetics of his thong.

He can feel Brian struggling against the handcuffs despite his compliance, grinding up against the kid as best he can without leverage and creating perfect friction between them. He pants unabashedly with every thrust, bouncing Stewie in his lap just a little too roughly in vague protest.

“Ah,” Stewie sighs up at the ceiling, uncaring. “You _are_ a good boy, Brian. So--” he moans “--good.”

Brian almost feels smug, but then Stewie is slipping down, crawling out of his lap and tactfully avoiding the dog’s lipstick erection; only just breathing against it once he ends up at face level with Brian's groin. He hums, clearly weighing the options of how best to drive his friend mad.

They make eye contact.

Stewie licks his lips.

It's searing hot - shocking when the flat of Stewie's tongue runs a stripe along the underside of Brian's cock. He shudders immediately at the sensation of it, gasping out--

“God, _Stewie_ \--”

It's all just a tease: the heat of small fingers pressing into reddish flesh; the kid treating it as though it were a lollipop, with short, delicate licks. Brian thrusts slowly forward, gyrating his hips into the touch as time seems to speed up with him helpless to control it.

“Keep that up and I'm gonna lose it,” he pants.

Stewie grins against the tip, kissing it once tenderly before pulling away with a dark chuckle.

“I have an idea, Brian,” he says playfully, running his tongue along his upper lip. And then all contact is broken. “I'll be back in two shakes of a lamb's tail.”

Brian is alone for only the briefest of moments.

Long enough to reflect on just how in the hell he's ended up in this situation. Long enough to bask in the sun's moving glow through the window; to feel the heat against his fur as potent as the heat coursing through his blood, tingles pooling in his gut, dying for Stewie to put him in his throat.

He's regrets it the instant it flickers through his brain: that longing to hold Stewie down and just fuck his throat raw. He's awful.

He's a bad dog.

“Good dog!” Stewie coos as he comes back, waving a bone-shaped biscuit treat through the air. “You really deserve this!”

They're nearly face-to-face, that dog treat held so enticingly close to Brian's mouth that he’s tempted to snatch it from Stewie's fingers, but is afraid of the punishment it might incur.

“I have a proposition for you, Brian.”

Stewie's lashes are long and dark and with his eyes half-hooded, he looks almost sultry. Brian hangs on the kid's every word in silence, eager to make a deal.

Eager to see the lipstick smudged on those cocksure lips.

“You keep this dog treat,” he says, waving it again through the air before placing it on Brian's muzzle, “on your nose for the duration of the pleasure I'm about to bestow upon you, and we can remove the handcuffs.”

It sounds near impossible a task, but Brian agrees with a short, slow nod so as not to move the biscuit.

“S-sure.”

“You can do it, champ,” Stewie sniggers, taking his place again between Brian's legs and not being shy about taking the dog's cock in hand.

He swirls his tongue around the pointed tip of it, letting drool run down its length in preparation; eyes intense on Brian, waiting for the biscuit to fall. When Brian's eyes close and the treat stays put, Stewie continues; licking wet stripes from base to tip, placing open-mouthed kisses on him with fervour.

When he finally engulfs Brian, it's sudden.

Marvellous.

It’s nothing Brian hasn’t experienced before, but Stewie has a tongue with particular talents aside from just his sharp wit.

His hands work on pumping what his throat can’t - doesn’t _want_ to - accommodate. The sensation of it makes Brian arch his back; makes his eyes fly open and roll back. His breath hitches; his legs open wider of their own accord. A particularly strong roll of Stewie’s tongue has his head snapping back, smacking his head against the wall and crying out in pain and pleasure - but the treat doesn't fall, thanks to some quick recovery on Brian's part; tilting his head to the right to balance it comfortably on the bridge of his nose.

“You'll have to do better than that, kid,” he teases.

It heats Stewie's cheeks and lights the fuse of his competitive nature. He takes Brian into the back of his throat and bobs his head back up, repeating the lewd motions in repeated succession; tongue laving forcefully against the underside of his cock, cheeks concaved.

He keeps an eye on Brian's blissed-out expression - he looks wrecked, but is somehow mindful enough to keep the dog treat balanced. It grinds on Stewie's nerves, that Brian is being so obedient - for once.

No fun at all.

He hums softly around Brian until he needs to cough, desperate to swallow the bitter mix of saliva and precome that has him gagging.

“Keep going,” Brian exhales shakily. “I'm g-gonna--”

It tips Stewie over the edge - he pulls completely away; stands imposing in front of Brian with his hands on his hips and his brow furrowed. He gives Brian a once-over.

And then he smacks the biscuit from Brian's nose, effectively hitting the dog and making him flinch.

“What the hell!”

“We aren't done yet,” Stewie hisses, turning his back on Brian to rummage through the Amazon box yet again, tearing open packaging and revealing a long, thin stick, and a bottle of lube.

“Wh-what's that?”

“Something you're going to thank me for,” Stewie says, tone calm and sweet like honey now. “It's called a ‘sound.’ You're in for a wild ride, my friend.”

Stewie takes his time in popping the cap of the lube, letting it gloop out and down, coating the tip of Brian’s cock like syrup and rubbing it evenly over the shaft. What he has in hand appears to be a needle-like device, long and thin with a bulbous tip at one end and a keyring at the other. It doesn't look particularly threatening on its own - it's Stewie's devious expression that has Brian halfway to whimpering, breaking into a light sweat as Stewie begins to run lube down the length of it.

“Now you're going to need to be a good boy and relax,” Stewie says softly, setting the bottle of lube aside and swirling his thumb over the slit of the dog's cock to tease him; dragging his thumb down to open him up.

Brian winces and thrusts up against Stewie’s hand, but rather than continue his teasing ministrations, Stewie holds Brian's thigh down forcefully, snapping, “And don't move a muscle.”

The kid’s concentrated expression is rather sobering, and Brian's breath turns shaky, “You better be sure about this.”

But Stewie kisses the underside of Brian's cock in warm, sticky encouragement; eagle-eye focus on the sound as he settles it at his dog's leaking tip, tapping a finger to the ring of it, just enough for the sound to slip inside.

Brian yelps in surprise, earning an annoyed glare from the boy between his legs.

“You'll be alright,” he says as Brian squeezes his eyes shut tight, “just be cool.”  
  
When he removes his finger, gravity takes over, causing the sound to slowly disappear, sinking inch by inch until there's a pinky-length’s worth of it sticking straight out, reflecting the sunlight from the window. The lube is cold and Brian’s body is way too hot; having a piece of metal sticking out of such a sensitive part of him is horrifying.

He’s losing his mind.

Stewie grabs hold of the keyring to prevent it from sinking any deeper; licks a stripe up the side of Brian's quivering member.

“Does it hurt?”

Brian shivers beneath him. He shakes his head no, but his eyes are still closed and his grimace betrays him.

“It's kind of weird.”  
  
Stewie hums; drags the sound back up to just above the thickish tip of it. Brian jolts; whimpers as it happens, struggling to control his breathing and releasing a strangled moan once he thinks it might be over.

And then Stewie lets go and the rod sinks back inside to about where he’d caught it before. He repeats the action: the slow draw of it upwards; the ease of the drop downwards. Over and over again until Brian moans outright.

It tingles; sends a spiral of euphoric warmth through his gut. His cock feels oddly numb but it's-- 

“Good?”

“Yeah,” he chokes, heat rising in his face, his already-wet nose cold and dripping. “Yeah, I--”

Stewie presses on the keyring top more forcefully, then, and the sound sinks in faster, easier. Brian wails, soft muddled pouts of “God” and “ah" and “don't stop,” and Stewie doesn't - opting rather to speed up; careful not to be reckless, but just enough to have Brian gasping, laughing softly and deliriously, overwhelmed by the entire situation; sensations inexperienced.

Up and down and Stewie's rocking his hips to the rhythm of it--

“I-- Stewie, I need--” he shivers, shaking against his bondage, digging his wrists into the handcuffs and sure he's going to be bruised and raw despite the fur padding. “I'm gonna come--”

“So do it, then,” Stewie huffs, feigning boredom despite the redness in his cheeks and the lust-glazed look in his eyes. It’s then that he finally slips his left hand into his thong underwear, kneading at himself half-heartedly while he works his dog to fruition.

“...But keep quiet about it.”

With just a few more flicks of his wrist, Brian is lurching forward, coughing out with ragged breath.

_“Jesus Christ!”_

Stewie adjusts himself, falling into that same position between Brian's legs that's prime for laving attention upon the bulge of the sound still nestled inside. The kid grips the shaft, keeping Brian hard and on the brink of madness, encouraging him to lose himself.

“Good boy,” Stewie coos, “do it for me. Do it for Stewie.”

His tongue hovers over the tip, waiting for the inevitable orgasm; he can tell Brian's close when he taps the rod further into Brian's cock and the dog shudders violently, clenching his teeth. He growls through them, feral, and then Brian is falling apart, Stewie stroking him through an orgasm that has him bucking ruthlessly against Stewie's hand; panting and drooling.  
  
Stewie laps up the small dribble of come that has made it out around the rod, forehead damp under his faux locks of blonde, lazily humping into his own hand.

He takes it slow, pushing in deeper one final time before finally pulling the sound from Brian as delicately as it had first eased in. He watches Brian’s face for signs of discomfort, but in the end there’s nothing but contentment in his half-lidded eyes - eyes focused on the hand on Stewie’s dick.

When the sound is pulled free, there’s a thick trail of ejaculate come with it, but it’s considerably less mess than usual. It makes Stewie snort.

"We ought to do this more often,” he sighs, breath hitching as he reaches his peak and falls carelessly atop Brian’s right leg with an exaggerated moan. “Not much mess...no condoms to hide.”

Brian says nothing as he comes down from his post-coital high, but Stewie preemptively doesn’t wait to hear him complain about his bound wrists, fishing into his bra and retrieving the key to the handcuffs. Brian slumps to the floor as Stewie rolls off of him to unlock them, and even once free, he stays put; eyes closed, groaning lowly.

“Do I even want to ask where you got an idea like that?” he mumbles into the carpet.

“I guess ‘Hairy Hunk Suck and Fuck’ is good for something after all.”

It takes Stewie a moment to join Brian on the floor; once the wig is off and stored and the bra removed, he saunters over in his bottoms and heels. When he sits, he taps a biscuit treat to Brian’s nose, offering a soft smile and faint blush when the dog opens his eyes.

“You deserve this.”

“I deserve a lot more,” Brian says, taking the biscuit into his mouth - smiling agreeably at his young partner in crime. “Thanks Stewie.”

In the warm glow of the sunlight, it feels all too easy to fall asleep right there on the carpet. The kid’s body against his is comforting - feels right - and Stewie’s already got his eyes closed, clutching at white fur in lieu of his blanket.

He slings his arm protectively over Stewie, a smile tugging at the sides of his mouth.

“...Now what didn’t you open and what can we return?”


End file.
